


Wild Horses

by shessocold



Category: The Rolling Stones
Genre: 1970s, Angst, Arguing, Best Friends, Bisexuality, Conflict, Eavesdropping, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Sad, The Glimmer Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:57:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12940641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Just a small serving of moonlit angst.





	Wild Horses

“You know, I don't think Mick likes me much.”

Keith laughs so hard he almost falls off the balustrade. 

“Bit of an understatement, innit? He hates your bloody guts.” 

“Oh. Did I, uh, do something to him?” 

“Nah. Don't worry. He hates all my male friends. He just can't stand the idea of me having other mates.” 

“Isn't that, well, weird?” inquires Gram after a few seconds, since Keith doesn't look like he's going to articulate further. “What's it to him if you hang out with other people?” 

Keith takes his sweet time lighting himself a cigarette, enough that Gram figures it is a way to avoid answering his question. 

“He's jealous,” says Keith finally, in a cloud of smoke. “He hates that we're not as close as we used to be.” 

“I'm sorry,” says Gram, because he can't think of anything else to say. 

“Don't be,” says Keith, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He made his bed and he can damn well lie in it.” 

** 

“I don't want you around that fucker anymore.” 

Gram freezes on the threshold. Mick – silhouetted in the moonlight, standing aggressively close to someone Gram guesses to be Keith – sounds angry, a far cry from his usual passive-aggressive jabs. Keith laughs. 

“You're so bloody ridiculous,” he taunts. “Everyone is laughing behind your back, the way you keep trying to bully people around. Just leave me alone.” 

“You are going to kill yourself,” says Mick. “You both are. I don't give a shit about him, but you need to stop. There are places where they can help you. Doctors. We can get you sorted out.” 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” 

It is as quick as it is unexpected, and Gram has to blink a couple of times to make sure he isn't imagining things, but Mick – languid, effete Mick, with his pale hands and his fussy silk shirts – has pinned Keith to the wall. 

“Alright, you tosser,” Mick says, his voice low and menacing. “I don't know what sort of kick you are getting out of this, I don't know if you think you are getting back at me somehow. I don't care. I won't let you kill yourself out of spite when you have a bloody _child_ to take care of.” 

“You leave Marlon out of this,” snarls Keith, but his voice has lost the caustic edge it had seconds before. 

“He needs you,” Mick insists. “He needs his dad, even if his dad is acting like an immature cunt and fucking everything up. Because he loves you, and I bloody well know you love him too. But you need to show it.” 

“Mick, stop,” says Keith, and he almost sounds like he's about to cry. “Let me go.” 

“Tell me what I have to do to help you,” pleads Mick. “I will do whatever it takes.” 

“That's not true,” mutters Keith, barely audible. “You went and married her, didn't you?” Gram thinks he hears him add, improbably. 

“She's going to have a baby,” says Mick, sounding defensive. “It was the right thing to do.” 

“That's bullshit. You did it because you wanted to. So don't give me any more of this nonsense, and leave me alone,” says Keith, his tone final, and he pushes Mick away. Gram and Mick both stand still, listening to the sound of Keith's furious footsteps fading in the distance. It is a surreal, dreamlike situation. 

When Mick finally turns around (Gram is pretty sure he can't see him, on account of the room he's in being so much darker than the moonlight flooded porch Mick is standing on, but he doesn't dare move a muscle anyway), Gram sees a single tear glittering on his cheek.


End file.
